


Damsel in distress

by Gimmesumsuga



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Chemistry, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fireman!Jared, Flirting, Jared Padalecki AU, Jared to the rescue, Lust at First Sight, Reader-Insert, Some Humor, firefighter!Jared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 00:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10730550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmesumsuga/pseuds/Gimmesumsuga
Summary: When you find yourself in a sticky situation, firefighter Jared comes to your rescue.





	Damsel in distress

Sleepily, you peel one eye open, reaching for your phone over the side of the tub.  You try your best not let the water from your fingertips drip onto the cracked touch screen; you’d already dropped it a countless times, there was no need to add water damage to the ever-growing list of it’s problems.  You’ve been soaking for an hour now, skin well and truly pruned, and although relaxed you can’t deny that your stomach is starting to rumble.  It’s probably time to get out, really, and do something more productive with your day.   Maybe.

You sigh regretfully as you straighten up out of the water, and eventually you hoist yourself to standing.  Suddenly cold and waterlogged you’re at least grateful that the back ache you had before your bath has disappeared.

“Ah shit…” you murmur under your breath.  You’ve forgotten to bring a towel into the bathroom, again, and now you’ll have to shiver your way out onto the landing to fetch one, butt naked and dripping water all over the floor.   You make your way to the door, arms wrapped around yourself (like it helps at all) and unlock the bathroom door, bracing yourself for the cold hallway outside.

Or you try to unlock it, at least.  The bolt remains woefully stuck in place, and no amount of jiggling or cursing seems to make it move.  It’d always been stiff - you’d fought with it before - but it’s the first time it’s refused to open entirely.

“Shit!” your curse again, much louder than before, turning around to peer around the pokey bathroom, as if expecting a solution to jump out at you from nowhere.  The window’s no good.  You’re naked, for one, never mind being three flights up with no soft landing.  No flatmates, no neighbours home at this time in the afternoon to shout for, and you’re fairly certain your 76 year old grandmother wouldn’t be much help in breaking down a door.  

Oh god, you don’t want to dial 911.  That’d be so… _mortifying_ … but what other choice do you have?  You’re not exactly getting any warmer, or less hungry.  Eventually you muster up the courage to make the call, sat on the edge of the bathtub for your forehead in hand as you try to explain your predicament.   You’re sure you can hear the laughter the operator is holding back on the other end, and it only makes your cheeks burn hotter.  She promises to send some out to you, though, so you end up feeling glad you called, even if it was embarrassing.  

You decide to take advantage of your confinement and run another bath, letting out a sigh of relief as you sink back into the warmth. So what if you end up like a prune? At least you’re comfortable, and hey, super clean.  

“Hello?”  

You jolt awake with a gasp and a splash of water, startled by a clear, deep voice.  You must have fallen asleep.  You roll your eyes; the last thing you need is to drown yourself too.  

“Hi?” you call back, sitting up straighter in the tub.

“I’m with the fire department, can I come up?”

“Sure…”  You cringe, embarrassment flaring up again at having to be rescued like this, by a perfect stranger.  Stupid lock, you’d kept telling yourself you ought to replace it.  You’re not even sure why you’d locked it the first place; force of habit, you suppose.  

“Where are you?”  the voice asks, sounding closer than before.  

“Try looking for the only door that’s shut,” you reply tartly, unable to help yourself.  Snark comes too easily and too quickly to you; your mouth is always getting you in trouble.  It’s alright though, because you hear the fireman chuckle good-naturedly, his heavy footsteps making the hallway floorboards creak on his approach.  

“Stupid question, huh?”  You can hear the smile in his voice and for some unknown reason it makes you smile too.

“At least you’re not trapped in a toilet,” you joke, your voice just that bit louder so you know he’ll hear you properly through the door.

“Good point.”  A second of silence passes and you’re just starting to wonder what he’s doing out there when he starts to knock at the door.  

“Y’know I’ve already tried knocking politely – doesn’t work,” you tell him, smirking at your own poor sense of humour.

“I’m tryin’ to see how thick this thing is,” he says back, continuing to knock in different spots, “I’m gonna have to hack through.”  You’d thought he’d ignored your sarcasm, but once the knocking stops he adds, “For someone getting rescued, you ain’t all that grateful, are you?”  You glance down at your fingers beneath the water, suddenly feeling rather shame-faced. You and your stupid big mouth.   “Where’s the lock?”

“Right above the handle, I think the guy that rented the place before me screwed it on.”  

“Too well, apparently.”  You smile at his reply, silently congratulating yourself for giving a straight-forward, sass free answer.  “Ok, you’re gonna need to keep well back, alright?”

“Yessir.”  You swear you hear him huff in amusement.  Clearly your attitude before hadn’t really bothered him, but you still can’t help but feeling bad for seeming in any way ungrateful, and before you know it a sort-of apology is falling out of you.  “I am grateful you’re here, you know,” you say, right before something hits the door and you’re cut off by the sound of wood splintering.  “You’ve probably got much more important things you should be doing…”

Another loud chop – you’re guessing it’s an axe – and then he pauses, exhaling hard.  

“I don’t know,” he muses, “Savin’ a damsel in distress makes a nice change of pace.”  You scoff loudly, stretching out your leg and wiggling your big toe above the water.

“Not sure ‘damsel’ is really my type.”

“Yeah, I got that vibe.”  He chortles, and before you can play along and act outraged he starts chopping again. It seems like you’ll be out in here in no time, he’s making pretty short work of it by the looks of things.  

“What about you?”  

“What about me?”

“Are you the… y’know… ‘fireman’ type?”  You admit you haven’t been able to help yourself wondering what exactly your rescuer looks like, whether or not he lives up to the stereotype.  He certainly _sounds_ nice anyway; there’s a Southern drawl to his voice that you’d never realised you liked so much before hearing it on him.   He laughs again – a real laugh this time, not just a snigger, and it has you blushing down at your knees.  

“Not sure what you mean by that,” he says, and you’re fairly certain he’s playing dumb, “You’ll have to tell me.”  Another chop, and this time a chunk of wood flies across your bathroom and skids to a halt near the toilet.  “Once I get this damn thing open.”  He’s clearly working hard, you can hear it in the strain of his voice, and you’re suddenly preoccupied with mental images of dirty, rugged men in uniform that have you biting your lip in anticipation.  He’d better be a looker or this is going to be really anticlimactic.

It’s not until you start to see the axe breaking through the door that you realise you’re still sat in your bathtub completely naked.

“Uh…” you begin, pausing when you realise you don’t know your rescuers name, “Mr… fireman?”  God, you’re lame.  

“Jared.”

“Jared,” you repeat.  Certainly sounds like a hot guy name.  “I… uh… I forgot to pick up a towel on my way in.  I don’t suppose you could…”

“Oh.”  There’s a pause.  “Oh!” The penny drops, and Jared the fireman’s reaction is adorable.  “Sure, yeah, I can grab somethin’ for you.”

“My robe’s on the back of the bedroom door.”  You screw up your eyes, grimacing at the thought of Jared being exposed to the cess pit that is your room.  It’s a necessary evil.  Rather that than be confronted with your nakedness, anyway.  

“Got it.  Nice bears, by the way.”  He’s smirking, you just know it.

“Thanks, I think so,” you reply curtly, declining the bait.  There’s nothing wrong with your stuffed animals; they’re adorable, and he knows it.  

“I think I can get my hand through,” Jared tells you, and sure enough the next moment you see a large hand snaking its way through the jagged gap in the door that he’s made.  A very _large_ hand, attached to a sinewy, muscular forearm.  Oh my. “See if I can get this open without havin’ to take the whole door down.”

“Uh huh,” you agree absentmindedly, busy inspecting the dark hairs that cover the disembodied arm groping at the lock.  He’s pretty tanned too – maybe he’s some super hairy Mediterranean looking guy?  Oh no, what if he has a moustache?  

He fumbles for a minute or so with the lock, getting a good grip and then, with one almighty grunt, manages to yank it free.  It hits home with a loud thunk, noises of protest coming from the remaining door too, but both are drowned out by your cry of joy.

“I’m free!” you laugh as he does, promptly pulling the plug from the tub and letting the water drain away as you hop out towards the door. You tuck yourself around the corner out of sight as Jared pushes the door open just enough to pass you the robe which you take gladly, tying it around yourself extra tight.  

“You decent?”

“My modesty remains intact.” You pull the bathroom door open, eager to meet the man behind the voice, and smile as you say, “Not sure about my dignity, though.”

“Dignity’s overrated.”

And boy, it’s a good job it is, because you’re pretty sure your jaw just hit the floor.  At the very least you’re probably drooling, because _damn_ , Jared is everything a firefighter should be.  Tall isn’t even the word – the man is a giant, towering over you in a white wifebeater and hideous yellow pants.  He’s as wide as he is tall, his broad shoulders and chest taper into a slight waist, and his arms reveal how he was able to take care of that door in such a short time.  The guy is _built._

Did you mention dark?  And handsome?  

You totally weren’t expecting long hair, not for one second, but Jared has the most gorgeous chocolate brown waves reaching just past his dimpled chin, and when he starts to smile at your star-struck expression, oh god, it only makes it worse.  He has cheek dimples too, _cheek dimples_ , and it’s at that moment that you conclude that Jared is both sexy and cute in equal measure.  That, and way, way out of your league.  

“You good?” he checks, that amused expression still not leaving his face, the twist of his mouth making it clear that he’s holding back laughter. You clear your throat and look to the ground, trying to claw back some composure from somewhere – which is easier said than done when you’re still half-soaked through and practically naked in front of… well… someone like Jared.

“Yeah, I am,” you say softly, peeking up to meet his gaze and wishing that you could make out the colour of his eyes.  You run your fingers through the tangles of your hair, trying in vain to smooth it out a little. You probably look such a mess… “Thank you so much… for… y’know, ‘rescuing me’.” If only there was a door between you again; maybe you might still be that cool, snarky girl from half an hour ago, not this blushing, wilting flower that can barely stand to look up.

“Very welcome.” There’s a pregnant pause in which neither of you speak. It isn’t until you turn your gaze upward again, curious as to why he’d want to linger, that you notice how softly Jared is smiling at you.  He has such a gentle feel to him for someone so large, and you find yourself wondering if his hands are nearly as rough as they look.  “I better go.”

“More damsels, huh?”

“Something like that,” he grins over his shoulder as he bends to pick up his axe and the jacket that lay discarded on your floor.  He shrugs it on and makes to leave as you watch on, wishing there were some reason for him to stay.  It’s probably just your imagination, but it feels like there’s something there, some potential, some chemistry, _something._

“I’ll try not to need saving again any time soon.”  He’s half way down your stairs when you say it, but when you do Jared stops and turns, flashing you one last charming smile.  

“Don’t try too hard.”  

Well, ok… maybe you won’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback very much appreciated y'all :)


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